


Starlight (and peppermints)

by malaithegeckoqueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Do Not Copy Or Replicate Please, Do Not Post or Plagiarize Elsewhere Without My Permission Please and Thanks, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Draco Malfoy whump, Draco Malfoy-centric, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Happy Gay People, I Tried, I'm Bad At Tagging, Let Draco Malfoy Be Happy 2k20, Literally No One is Straight, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, M/M, My First Fanfic, Narcissa Malfoy Gets a Wife, No Hetero, No Sex, Other, Quidditch, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), because ew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27844006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malaithegeckoqueen/pseuds/malaithegeckoqueen
Summary: Draco woke up in the snow.(aka, here's my AU where everything's a little more happy (except Draco.. what on Earth has his father done now?), a little more gay, and a little more of a break for our favourite characters- not that i agree with JKR about you-know-what, i just love her Potter-verse)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Blaise Zabini, Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. in which i introduce meself in an author's note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all. Below is not the first chapter, but an author's note from me. :)

Hello readers, friends and strangers, fellow Potter-lovers. This is my first fanfic ever, so characters might be slightly OOC. Although I am a published author, I write this to sort of cool down, if that makes sense- though don't get me wrong, I certainly work hard on this story. Do leave comments and such if you like it, let me know what you think. I plan on updating this every week or every two weeks or so. It may be rather sporadic as I am a full-time student and dancer. Once again, I'd like to reiterate that I do not agree with J.K. Rowling's statements regarding the trans community. If you have a trans person in your life, turn to them right now- yes, now!- and give them a hug (or a virtual hug over text, idk). Big love to you all, drink water please and wear fuzzy socks when you're sad. Umm, that seems to be all. Enjoy!


	2. in which draco is attacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco woke up in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight TW for mention of blood and Draco whump.

The snow was cold against his face, soaking up the blood. His skin was pale, nearly matching the winter’s landscape around him. The air was still. Not one bird chirped; not one rabbit burrowed.

Draco awoke with a gasp, sitting upright in the fluffy powder. His head swam with the sudden change in position, silvery starbursts hovering in his vision.  
He was in the snow. Outside. The castle loomed behind him, dark and menacing. They had thrown him out here, he remembered. After stealing his homework and kicking him in the head. He reached up to feel the blood welling over the abraded skin on his temple, wiping it off with his sleeve. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided to stand. Not knowing if his legs would hold him, Draco grabbed a tree branch and hoisted himself out of the snow. He was okay. He was okay! He tried to take a step, but his frozen muscles gave out and he flopped back to the hard ground. The air left him with the impact, and he laid still, wheezing through chattering teeth. His breath didn’t even feel warm.

Once he could breathe normally, he reached a sluggish arm towards his robe pocket, where his wand was. He could hardly remember the words to cast a warming charm, but maybe he could set something on fire and someone would see it. By the silence around him, he guessed that everyone was in class or tucked up in their dorms. Before he managed to snatch his wand, though, he heard blessed footsteps on the concrete path behind him.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor Snape’s slimy voice rang out.

Draco almost cried. He turned his head and struggled to stand again.

Snape reached Draco and hauled him up, face stony but eyes soft. “Who did this?”

Draco exhaled. “It’s not—it’s not important.”

Snape was quiet for a moment, then placed Draco’s arm delicately around his neck. “Mr. Malfoy, any student that harms another student, however…unintentional, is to be punished. For now, you’ll go to Madam Pomfrey. I certainly expect you to give me names when you’ve recovered.”

The professor half-carried Draco to the hospital wing, where a certain Lavender Brown lay on a cot, hair bright yellow. Madam Pomfrey was fussing around her, arranging potions and knick-knacks on the bedside table. She looked up at the arrival of the Slytherins.

“Why, Severus, what a surprise. Is that—oh, Draco darling, here, put him here.” She directed Snape to a cot in the corner, closest to the fireplace.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut as the snow melted off his lashes, trailing snowflakes like tears down his cheeks. Madam Pomfrey waved a dismissive hand at Snape, who harrumphed unpleasantly but left quickly with a sweep of his robes.

Uttering a word to her wand, the physician changed Draco’s stiff clothes for a dry, cosy grey sweater and dark green sweatpants. With another wave of her wand, he was bundled in soft blankets, a warm towel gently sponging the water and blood from his hair.

“This isn’t going to become a habit, is it?” she asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Draco blew out a shuddering breath, the feeling returning to his limbs. “I hope not.”

He knew she was referring to the incident from the previous month, where a first-year Gryffindor had tripped him as he walked by the lake. He had nearly frozen before Blaise managed to pull him out from the icy water and run to the hospital wing.

“If you say so, dear. Dinner is in about an hour, so why don’t you take a nap? I’ll have someone fetch you honey tea.”

Murmuring a vague affirmation, Draco let his eyes close heavy against the flickering firelight. He dreamed of nothing, at first, until his dream-surroundings faded into white snow peppering the Malfoy gardens. He was standing at the big parlour window in his crisp black suit. Stained-glass snakes decorated the edge of the window and framed the trees nicely.

“Draco!”

The sound of his father’s voice drenched his spine in ice. Along with his footfalls came the heavy tapping of Lucius’ cane, which meant that they were going somewhere. Draco pivoted to face his father, who was putting on a cloak lined in Malfoy silver.

“Yes, Father?” he responded quietly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“We’re going to get your things for that infernal school,” Lucius said. “Come on, get a coat, let’s go. Don’t dally.”

Draco snatched his cloak from the rack. “You’re coming this time, Father?”

Lucius shook his head, handing his son a bag of coins. “No, I have business elsewhere. I’ll settle that while you buy your books, and we’ll go on to meet someone afterwards. _Don’t_ spend it on sweets.”

“Who are we meeting?”

Lucius smiled a strange smile, eyes turning dark with blood. “You will see.”

Draco shot up on the hospital cot, frantically shoving at the vine-like pile of blankets. Realising where he was, he heaved a deep breath and sat back against the pillows. Lavender Brown stared at him from across the wing, all hair but her eyebrows gone back to its usual colour. Draco glared, annoyed that someone as prone to gossip as Lavender had borne witness to his troubles. Before either of them could say anything, Madam Pomfrey bustled out with a rolling tray full of things.

She stopped at Lavender’s cot first, handing her a potion.“Drink that and _don’t_ go DIY-ing your highlights again. Put a little lemon in your hair and spend some time in the sunshine when it comes, and you’ll have natural, beautiful highlights, I promise.”

Draco stifled an amused smile as Lavender glared daggers, before downing the potion and leaving with the proper eyebrow colour.

Madam Pomfrey handed Draco a mug painted with sparkling constellations. “Draco, dear, here’s some hot chocolate. Drink that up and then you can go join your friends at dinner. Maybe you’d be best to stay indoors tonight, and sleep some of that chill off.”

“Couldn’t I…” he hesitated, feeling stupid. “Couldn’t I stay here for a little? Overnight, maybe?”

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Your body’s back to normal temperature, though you might have the occasional cough. You’ve got a Quidditch match next week, haven’t you? Go eat and rest for the game!”

The Slytherin knew when not to argue. After draining his mug, he pulled his robe over his sweater and trailed out the door.


	3. in which a chicken wing tower is built

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner in the Great Hall, plenty of banter, and an interesting appearance of Harry Potter leaves Draco wondering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Gonna update every week or so," haha. It's the very next day and I simply had more to write. Some new characters appear, both OC's and canon! More dialogue this scene, because of an interesting exchange between the tables. I also want to point out that Pansy calls Draco 'ranger.' This is a reference to Ranger Rick magazines, which I choose to exist in my AU, because I have this headcanon that Draco secretly loves wildlife and gardening.

Draco stepped into the Great Hall to see his friends Blaise and Pansy at their usual Slytherin table, stacking chicken wings several feet high. The other students gathered around them. Draco couldn’t hear what they were saying, but several of them had coins in their hands, taking bets. To the other side in Gryffindor, he caught Lavender’s gaze as she whispered to Parvati Patil. Scowling, he hurried to the Slytherin table, where chaos had erupted at the fall of the chicken wing tower.

“I told you!” crowed Blaise triumphantly as he collected a handful of Knuts.

“You said it would be forty! I counted forty-three!” Pansy smacked the coins out of Blaise’s hands.

“You’re clearly blind!”

“Oh, do you wanna _be_ blind?”

“Hello,” said Draco, sliding next to Pansy.

“Hey, ranger!” She smiled at him, then frowned. “What happened to you?”

“What—stop that—”

Pansy had poked the bruise that was just beginning to mar Draco’s forehead.

“Nothing, alright? Just count your chicken wings.” He took a bowl of soup for himself, holding it up so the fragrant steam warmed the tip of his nose.

He was so invested in the soup that he didn’t notice Pansy and Blaise exchanging a knowing glance, for which he certainly would have become even more defensive. The boy knew that he was being idiotic. He knew that Snape or McGonagall or even Dumbledore could easily put a stop to Gryffindor’s juvenile attacks, but he also felt ashamed. Hagrid, as much of an oaf as he was, didn’t deserve to be temporarily suspended from a job he loved. Lucius had made sure his son knew just how stupid it was to be picking fights with teachers, and as Draco reflected on the nature of his attitude towards Buckbeak, he realised that some things in life were ultimately not worth it.

“Want a wing?” A purple-haired girl named Carina offered him a plate.

“No, thank you,” he said, putting down the soup and finally beginning to eat.

“You can’t live off soup, mate,” Blaise said, leaning over with a mouthful of pastry. “You’ve gotta get prepared for the match next week. We can’t lose to Gryffindor, not again.”

“I am prepared,” Draco said. “Split pea soup is actually _quite_ nutritious, not that you’d know.”

Octans Moose, a burly Slytherin Chaser, slapped him on the back. “Need protein,” the tall Quidditch player explained. “It’s the big Christmas match! The winners get crowned at the Yule Ball! It’s important.”

“You’re going to lose no matter how much you eat, you pureblood fascists!” called a voice from the Gryffindor table.

Octans and Marcus Flint (another Chaser for Slytherin) stood up abruptly. A Gryffindor Chaser—Angelina Johnson—stood as well, eyes flashing dangerously. The Quidditch players were looking for a fight, and it seemed as if they were about to get their wish when Harry Potter himself stepped between the tables. Draco looked away.

“Everyone, let’s just have it out on the pitch, don’t you think?”

“Potter,” Marcus sneered in greeting.

Angelina put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “These are the guys that…”

“I know,” interrupted Harry. “But whatever strife is between his father and Dumbledore can’t make its way to us. Let’s not kill each other over things that don’t involve us, alright?”

Draco glanced up to find Harry’s bright eyes searching him. He furrowed his brow at the Gryffindor Seeker and turned back to his soup, but his mind wandered. ‘His father and Dumbledore?’ Whose father could Harry possibly be talking about but Draco’s own, Lucius?

“ _Don’t involve us—_ ” A girl named Lilah Rigel, who had stood up as well, choked on her anger. “You’re the reason such things exist, you arrogant fool!”

A red-headed string bean poked his head out from between the onlookers. “Watch who you’re calling arrogant, Rigel. I’ve seen you on the pitch; you practically think you’re God!”

“Ron, that’s not helping—"

“Sod off, she started it!”

“Oh, you think you’re special, Weasley? You can barely sit upright on your broom and here you are tryin’ to _start_ something?”

“Students, students! STUDENTS!” Professor McGonagall wove her way through the crowd that had gathered. “Keep your rivalry _on_ the pitch, and nowhere else, thank you! Mr. Potter, Ms. Rigel, five points from you each—”

Commotion broke out as both sides protested, loudly and disdainfully.

“Silence, please! If I hear another word, it will be twenty points per house, per student! Eat your dinner and _let it alone_ , I warn you.” The stern professor levelled her stare at each student, silently daring anyone to object.

No one did. After a moment, Professor McGonagall nodded sharply and returned to her seat at the teacher’s table, where the other professors were talking earnestly. The students sat back down and filled their stomachs, and soon the easy banter returned.

The rest of the meal passed quickly in a blur of excited conversation and quiet arguing, and before Draco knew it he was lounging by the fire in the Slytherin common room, surrounded by his still-bickering best friends. After rolling her eyes at Blaise’s insistence that it was forty wings, Pansy tugged at Draco’s sleeve.

“You were wearing your black jumper this morning,” she said.

“I changed clothes, so what?”

“We missed you in Herbology today.”

Blaise narrowed his eyes at Draco, who sat up indignantly. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to say something to Professor Snape! He can stop them, you know.”

“Pansy, it’ll only make it worse.”

“Draco!” Blaise reached up as if to shake him by the shoulders. “They’re trying to kill you, for real.”

“It’s not that bad.” The young Malfoy’s voice was getting quieter.

Pansy brushed a fingertip over his bruise. “Fine, but the next time it happens I _will_ hex somebody. Those Gryffindors won’t get away with this.”

“Yeah, they win the House Cup once with blasted Potter on their team and suddenly they think they’re invincible. That they can do anything they like,” said Blaise, eyes sour with anger.

“We’ll show them next week!” Harper, one of the Beaters, leapt over the back of the couch and settled next to Blaise, pressing their shoulders together. “We’ll show them who the _real_ Quidditch players are.”

“Hell yeah,” added Lilah Rigel, the other Beater. “Them fools won’t even know what got ‘em.” She deposited herself on the other side of Pansy.

Harper stuck his tongue out at her. “Yes they will,” he said. “They’ll definitely know that they lost to _us_.”

Lilah watched Harper and Blaise entwine their fingers. “You guys are so gross. Imagine dating in-House.”

Pansy leapt at the change of subject. “Wouldn’t you want to?”

Lilah wrinkled her nose. “My Hufflepuff girlfriend and I are very happy, thank you.”

The Slytherins who heard her all gasped. Lilah smiled serenely and produced a glittering leaf from within her robes. A declaration of love, leaves were both a popular Hufflepuff accessory and a way of saying ‘you’re the one I’ve fallen for.’ Lilah smugly passed it around, letting her friends ogle the diamond veins crisscrossing the glass-blown leaf. Even Pansy, the self-declared practical thinker, couldn’t help but sigh at the romantic symbol.

Draco almost laughed. “I think I’ll go to bed,” he said, standing up.

Pansy tore her gaze away from the group. “At least have some hot tea or something first.”

He shot her a look. “Stop being a mother hen,” he said childishly. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Returning the middle finger she gave him, he walked out of the room, thinking about what Harry had said. His father and Dumbledore… He resolved to figure it out the next day, when his head wasn’t so muddled. Not bothering to undress, Draco threw himself on his bed, wrapping himself up in the emerald sheets like a cocoon.

He was asleep in minutes.


	4. in which a poster causes a ruckus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poster, a visit with Dumbledore, and Potions class; plus we meet Lilah's Hufflepuff girlfriend, confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- brief panic attack sort of, mention of Nazis, mention of a corpse (it's a sketch tho), the word 'blood'. If you're a homophobe; firstly, stop it, secondly, there's more gay in this chapter. So sorry that I haven't updated in so long! Been quite busy as it's nearing Christmas and all. I think this is the most money I've ever spent in one holiday. Not that it matters, because I love spoiling my friends and family, but I usually hand-create gifts. Too much going on this year. Anyway, to the story!

“Draco! Draco!”

“Mmbhh…” 

“Draco Malfoy! Wake _up_ , you lazy—no good—son of a—”

“I’m awake, what—what _are_ you holding?”

Blaise stood entirely too close to Draco, holding out a piece of parchment and practically hopping in ill-contained fury. Draco rubbed his eyes and snatched the parchment, leaping up in shock once he’d digested what was on it. 

“The hell is this?!”

It was a pencil drawing of Lucius Malfoy, devil’s horns poking out from his flowing locks and a heavy manacle in his hand. Attached to the other end was a faceless corpse, the Malfoy family crest etched crudely into the skin. Below that, in ink the colour of blood, was a message. 

‘Malfoys are the new Nazis,’ it read. ‘Beware the whole sordid family, because they want all Muggleborns and Half-Bloods dead! Lucius Malfoy has threatened Dumbledore into expelling any non-Purebloods—’

“Where did you get this?” Draco couldn’t tear his gaze from the cruel graphite eyes of his father. 

“Someone slipped it under the door in the common room! I couldn’t see who—they left before I could see their face, but I thought you’d want to be the first to know—”

A frantic knock sounded at the boys’ door. “Draco?!”

Blaise looked back at his friend. “I guess you’re not the first one anymore.”

Still dressed in the clothes from the hospital wing, Draco scrabbled at the neckline of his sweater. His eyes were still locked on the drawing, the memory of his father’s gruesome expression from his dream the previous day flashing in his mind. The pieces began to click into place. 

“Hey…” 

A soft hand came out of nowhere too close to his face and he batted it away, feeling his knees weaken. His father and Dumbledore…Who had slipped this drawing under the door? Where else had they put it? Who had seen it by now? Scratch that—who _believed_ it by now?

Draco couldn’t breathe, a million possibilities running through his brain. He took a heavy step backwards and sat on his bed, running a shaky hand through his hair. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Oi, let it alone, Pucey, get out!”

“You too—everyone, just leave!”

“Harper, I got it, it’s okay.”

Blaise shut the door firmly and walked over to Draco, taking the drawing and crumpling it up. Draco twisted the blanket tassels in his hands, mind zooming too fast for him to keep up. 

“Hey, Draco. Dude, look at me, please.”

He turned his head to meet Blaise’s warm gold eyes. 

“It’s going to be okay, alright? We’ll take this straight to the Headmaster and figure it all out, is that okay? Draco, take a breath.” Blaise gently pried the blanket from Draco’s hands. 

He took a breath. Then another, and another, til his heart stopped pounding and his head stopped spinning. 

“To the Headmaster then.” Blaise stood up and held out a hand. 

“No!”

“Why not?”

Gesturing uselessly, the blond boy faltered. “I can’t go out there! Everyone’s probably seen this by now! That’s why the Gryffindors are out for my blood—most of them are Half-bloods and the lot.” 

Blaise bent over so that his and Draco’s faces were a centimetre apart. “Is it true, though?”

“What? No! I mean, I stayed with my mum over Easter, so I don’t know for sure—”

“There you go, then, let’s go to Dumbledore. He can clear everything up.”

Leaving no room for argument, Blaise tossed a clean jumper and robes at Draco, who pulled them on with a huff. The boys hurried through the common room, where a group of Quidditch players stood tossing parchment into the fireplace, and out into the corridor beyond. Draco kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the swarm of Hufflepuffs that were walking towards them. The groups had almost passed each other when one Hufflepuff turned around. It was a red-lipped girl with a crystalline snake, of all things, tucked in her hair. 

“We don’t believe it,” she declared. “Don’t worry, Draco, we know you’re not a Nazi.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“Jess, let’s go,” said the girl’s friend. 

With a tentative smile, the girl—Jess—turned around. The Hufflepuffs continued down the corridor and out of sight. 

Blaise grinned at Draco. “It’s a solid start,” he said, nudging Draco in the ribs. 

“They’re Hufflepuffs. Of course they’re nice to everyone,” complained the Slytherin.

The boys found the staircase to the Headmaster’s office after nearly a half hour of searching. With a whispered word to the stone guardian, they stepped onto the twisted spiral and began the long trek upwards. When they arrived at the top, Professor Dumbledore was waiting for them at his desk. 

“Can I help you, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini?” 

Blaise stepped forward and held out the drawing. “Someone is passing these around the school.” 

Dumbledore took the drawing without glancing at Draco and uncrumpled it, face a passive wall as he read it. “I see. Well, slander is not allowed at this school, and you can be assured that whoever drew this will serve months of detention.”

“But…” 

Dumbledore looked at Blaise, then Draco.

“Is it true?” asked the latter. 

The mighty Headmaster sighed. “Your father…had some ideas on how to… _improve_ our school. I’m sure you're aware of his ideas on things like blood status.” 

“How could he threaten you? You’re…Dumbledore.”

“Mr. Malfoy, although I am the Headmaster of this school, I am not exempt from the rulings of the law. I’m afraid that many in the Ministry feel the same way that your father does about Hogwarts, and their influence bears upon the whole of the wizarding world.”

Draco frowned. 

“I know things have been difficult since your mother left, Draco,” Dumbledore said. “Your father is…taking it out on Muggleborns, who he believes responsible for the, ah, separation.”

Draco sighed. “You mean, since my mother ran off in the middle of the night with her secret Muggleborn wife and didn’t even say goodbye to him? Yeah, he’s taking it out on _everybody._ ”

“What I am trying to say, Draco, in no uncertain terms, your father is trying to get me to expel all non-Purebloods from Hogwarts. It won’t happen. These flyers are simply a rumour that’s been over-embellished and therefore false. I will take care of it.” Dumbledore flicked the drawing into his fireplace. “I suggest you gentlemen go off to class, now, and fill those heads with some useful information.”

The boys turned with a slight bow and trudged down the stairs. Draco stood still for a moment, gathering himself. 

“We missed breakfast,” Blaise said, watching students stream out of the Great Hall. 

Without another word, the friends separated and headed to their morning classes. For Draco, that was Potions. He made his way to the dungeons, keeping his head down. When he arrived, a Gryffindor had taken his usual seat near the back of the class, forcing him to move to the center of the classroom. The same Hufflepuff girl—Jen? Judy? Jess!—plopped down beside him. 

“The Hufflepuff House didn’t get any flyers, so don’t worry there,” she said in greeting.

Draco looked at her, confused. “But you said—”

Jess laughed. “My girlfriend’s in Slytherin. Seems only you guys and Gryffindor got flyers.” 

“Not Ravenclaw?”

“Would it matter?”

“No…I guess everyone’ll be talking about it anyway,” said Draco, looking at his hands. He fiddled with his quill. 

“Students.” Snape’s voice slithered around the room, catching the kids’ attention. “I am sure you have all received, by now, a certain piece of parchment filled with lies and disrespect. I trust that you will ignore this slander, and whoever knows anything about it will volunteer that information.”

“Professor? Is it _really_ slander? Because _I_ heard that…” 

The class erupted into a cacophony of rumours and questions and shouts, both against and in favour of the Malfoy family. The boy himself just slithered down in his seat, cheeks blazing as red as his temper.


	5. in which draco and lilah talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Lilah's friendship begins to blossom a bit. Ron shows up and delivers some exciting news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for mention of Hitler again, typical description of Lucius being Parent of the Month (non-graphic but more like uncaring). At this point, we all need to accept the fact that these updates are just whenever I have the time- which I am trying to make more time after that week hiatus. Have fun with this one.

“Don’t you dare bail on us,” snarled Harper. 

The Slytherin Quidditch team was sitting on the side of the pitch, waiting for Ravenclaw to finish practice so that they could start their own. Draco was considering dropping out of the Christmas game. Who would want the son of Lucius Malfoy to be Slytherin Seeker in such an important match? 

“We’ll win if you’re there, and lose if you’re not.” Bletchley the Keeper thudded down next to him. “C’mon, mate, what are you scared of?”

“I’m not _scared,_ ” huffed Draco, “I’m doing you a _favour_. People won’t like you anymore if I’m there, not after the poster.” 

Lilah the Beater smacked the back of his head, rather jarringly. “Shut it, weasel-face,” she said, in a tone that meant _no funny business, idiot_. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your self-pity-party. You’re Seeking for the Christmas match, and that’s that.” 

Draco shot her a dirty look and dramatically clutched the back of his head, but he was secretly happy his friends still wanted him around. They started to get up, jogging over to where the Ravenclaw team was landing on the pitch. Draco smiled uneasily at the few people that were glaring at him. 

“You’re up, then,” said the Ravenclaw Seeker. She paused a moment, eyes boring into Draco’s, then shook out her sweat-drenched hair and laughed. “Have a good run. We’ll get you next Christmas, maybe.” 

The Slytherins watched the Ravenclaws walk away, then Harper clapped his hands. “Let’s go!”

The practice went smoothly. There was one incident which left Lilah steaming mad (Luciline the Chaser had accidentally nailed her in the face with the Quaffle), but the team worked well together, which left them feeling euphoric and hopeful for the next day’s match. At the end of the practice, when the Hufflepuffs streamed onto the pitch, Draco hung back to wait for Lilah. The Slytherin Beater was exchanging a quick kiss with her beau when Draco coughed quietly. Jess laughed against Lilah’s lips, turning her to face the Seeker. 

“Yes, Draco?” Lilah raised an eyebrow. 

“Can we talk?”

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?” 

“Yes—I meant—well—” 

Lilah rolled her eyes. “Yes, give me one moment.”

Draco nodded wordlessly and began the trek off the pitch. After giving Jess one more kiss, Lilah caught up with him as he stepped off the grass. 

“What’s up?”

Draco heaved a breath and stopped, turning to face the Beater. “You’re unabashedly honest, you know that?”

“Yes…” Lilah tilted her head like a confused puppy. “And?”

“What do you _really_ think about my father and the whole…Pureblood thing?”

Lilah sighed and started walking again, not breaking eye contact. “I think your father is definitely overboard with the ideas of blood status. But I sincerely doubt that he’s Hitler-level crazy about it.” 

Draco pondered this for a moment, then told her what Dumbledore had said. 

“Huh.”

They kept walking. 

They had almost reached the Great Hall when Draco couldn’t handle the silence. “What do you mean, ‘huh’?” 

“I mean, it’s obvious that your father is trying to clean up the school, whether this be the right way to do it. Could it be that he cares about you and your education? Or maybe Dumbledore’s projecting. He did have a lover leave him once, didn’t he?” 

Draco scrunched his nose at the thought of Dumbledore having a lover. “I don’t know. But I don’t think my father’s trying to do anything out of the good of his heart.” 

The young Malfoy looked down at his feet, stepping on every crunchy brown leaf. He could feel Lilah’s burning gaze. When they reached the tree outside the Hall, she stopped him with a gentle hand on his elbow. He kept his eyes away from her face. 

“Your father isn’t the Wizarding World’s Hitler, okay? Yes, he’s racist and rude and misguided, but he does _care_ about you.”

“Cares about making me perfect,” muttered Draco. 

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t care about _me_ , personally,” Draco said, meeting Lilah’s stare. “He cares about maintaining the Malfoy _image_. Making me the perfect product of our family lineage. That’s all I am, an _investment_ , really.”

“What are you talking about?” A new voice rang out from behind Draco. Before Lilah could say anything, he had pushed her behind him and swiveled to face the new arrival, wand at the ready. 

“You’re uptight,” Weasley grinned uneasily. “Didn’t mean to scare you, mate.”

“I’m not your mate,” Draco snarled. 

The redhead raised his hands. “Hey, I’m just the messenger. Harry’s throwing a big multi-House party before the match and told me to invite you. Naturally, I think he’s bonkers, but it might be entertaining.” 

“Am I invited?” Lilah smiled with sharp teeth at the Gryffindor. 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Actually, the whole Slytherin team is invited.” 

“Yeah!” Lilah pumped her fist. “Gryffindor hearts, ripe for eating.” 

Draco shoved his wand in his bag. “I’ll let everyone know,” he said briskly. 

Weasley hovered for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something, but turned on his heel and left, kicking up the snow as he went. 

“So that’s fun,” Lilah said over Draco’s shoulder. 

He spun back around. “Yep. Shall we go tell the team, then?” Without waiting for an answer, he began to storm back towards the pitch. Lilah snagged his sleeve. 

“What were you saying before, Draco?” 

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. C’mon, we’ll miss them.” He shrugged her hand off. 

“We’ll see them in the common room later. Tell me now,” Lilah said, stepping in front of him. “I know it’s bothering you.” 

Draco frowned. “I just wish he loved me. Not as another piece of the puzzle, or another chess pawn, but as a proper son and father might love one another.” 

“Ah.” Lilah looked sad. “I see what you mean.”

Draco bit his cheek, internally screaming. “Maybe this is a foreign concept to you, but not all fathers are _caring_ in the way they should be.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t understand, before. But I think I do now. You want your father to love you and treat you with respect, right? The way my father loves me, or the way your mother loves you.”

“That’s all I want. I would… _kill_ for a family like that.” Draco’s voice betrayed him, wobbling on the word _kill._

“It doesn’t always get to be that way.”

“I know,” responded Draco quietly. 

“That doesn’t mean your feelings are invalid, Draco. Maybe, instead of wishing for things that can’t happen, you should focus on what you have. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t feel sad about it, but you can’t let it take over entirely.” 

“I guess so.” Draco’s voice was a whisper. 

“Come on, let’s go stuff our faces with pie.” Lilah held out a hand. 

As childish as it made him feel, Draco took it and let himself be led to the Great Hall. Lilah’s words turned over and over in his mind. Not the words about pie—though he certainly liked that idea—he thought hard about _focusing on what he had_. Perhaps he would feel better if he stopped dwelling on his father.

Lucius Malfoy was cruel, and cold, and maybe, just maybe, one of those things in life that were ultimately not worth it. 


	6. in which harry throws a quidditch party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's party time. Plus, enter stage left Hermione Granger!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight TW for mention of strangling. Nothing graphic at all, just Blaise and Pansy joking around about Gryffindor. I'm not entirely sure what needs a TW so I'm just putting them for everything possibly triggering that I can think of. Love to you all, stay well. Cheers! Plus, you can pry em dashes and italics from my cold, dead hands. Also, Pansy likes glitter and you can't change my mind.

“Ready?” Blaise stood in front of Draco, wrapping a garland around his neck like a scarf. “If the Gryffindors get too annoying we can totally just strangle them with a Christmas wreath.” 

The Slytherins were gathered in the common room, waiting for the clock to strike eight so that they could go to Harry’s party. Draco felt rather queasy when he thought about the look Harry’d given him in the Great Hall, but he brushed it off as House rivalry. 

“Ha, ha, strangling Gryffindors,” said Pansy, brushing by them with an ungodly amount of glitter dusting her skin. “Might as well get thrown in Azkaban for New Years’ too. Wanna make it a fun holiday season.”

“I didn’t take you for a glitter girl, Pansy,” Draco said, eyebrows shooting into his hairline. 

Blaise’s jaw dropped. “Pansy Parkinson? Wearing glitter? Hell _has_ frozen over.”

“Shut up, plebs.” Pansy swept a handful of glitter out of her hair and dumped it on Blaise’s head. “Now you can be as beautiful as me. Well, not _as_ beautiful, because who could compete with _these_ cheekbones?” 

“I could,” said a Slytherin Chaser. Her name was Luciline, and she possessed a bone structure that belonged in the Louvre. She had invited Pansy as her plus-one to the party the other day, and the boys hadn’t stopped hearing about her since then. 

“Hmm,” said Pansy with a grin. “I suppose you could…for a kiss.” 

“You’re my heart’s desire,” said Luciline. “I thought a kiss was a given.” 

The girls smiled at each other while the boys exchanged disgusted looks. 

“Okay, get out of here with that romantic sweetness, save it for the Yule Ball.” Blaise flapped his hand at the girls, who turned up their noses jokingly and left the common room just as the bell began to chime eight o’clock. 

“Away we go!” Harper linked his arm with Blaise’s and tugged him to join the procession out the door. 

With a deep breath, Draco followed. Once the team had gone outside, he broke off from the group to find Lilah, who was strolling hand-in-hand with Jess the Hufflepuff. 

“Third wheeling?” asked the latter, smiling sunnily. “It’s alright. You’ll find a friend at the party.” 

Lilah snorted. “Okay, Jess, let’s have some tact.” 

A dramatic gasp. “I’m very tactful.”

“Sure…I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Draco let himself trail behind the two. After a few minutes, he was surprised to find himself in step with Hermione Granger, whose hair was much more tamed than usual. She offered a tentative smile. 

“Don’t have a date?” he asked gruffly, kicking the snow. 

“Nope,” she said, popping the _p_. “I’m a single Pringle.” 

“I thought you’d have mated with Weasley by now,” Draco snarked, “and birthed a bunch of tiny Weaslettes.” 

Hermione didn’t say anything. After a moment, Draco rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Old habits die hard.” 

“You’ve been having a difficult week,” she said, looking at him with a knowing glint in her eye. “ _Weasley_ told me what you were telling that red-haired Beater earlier today.”

“Did he?” Draco pretended to be interested in the castle wall. They had reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, pausing as the others streamed into the party. “That’s interesting.” 

“You know, we _don’t_ think you’re just an investment.” Hermione lifted her head, trying to make eye contact. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter what _you_ think,” Draco said. “And tell Weasley to bugger off. He shouldn’t be spreading other people’s _private_ conversations.” 

“Merlin’s beard, Draco,” said Hermione, using Draco’s first name for once. “We’re trying to make _peace_ with Slytherin. We know you’re not your father and we’d love to actually be your _friend_ , if you’ll let us. I mean, what do you think the point of this party is? Harry and Ron and I decided that we’re sick of House rivalry. Let’s all just be nice, okay?” 

“Oh, you three decided it? The _Golden Trio_ decreed it, so everyone else has to follow? Shove off, Granger.” Draco pushed away from the castle wall and stormed in the opposite direction. He didn’t expect her to run after him and grab his arm. 

“You are important,” she said, levelling him with a steely glare. “You are a good person, and we want you to come to our party and have fun.” 

Maybe he was tired of his father’s voice constantly nitpicking in the back of his mind. Maybe he was sick of being treated like a criminal from his father’s doings. Maybe he’d been poisoned in his sleep, and was hallucinating vividly. Whatever the reason, Draco walked back to the castle hand-in-hand with Hermione Granger, and pushed open the door to Harry Potter’s Quidditch party. 

He was immediately overwhelmed with the amount of people there, a sea of red and green and blue and yellow all dancing and laughing and tossing tiny broom-shaped confetti pieces into the air. Hermione squeezed his hand. Draco took a breath and shouldered on, moving towards the table at the far end where Harry, Ron, Luna, and Pansy were talking and laughing, holding brightly coloured drinks. Harry spotted them first, raising an eyebrow at their clasped hands but greeting them with a wide smile. 

“Hello, glad you could make it,” he said, handing Draco a butterbeer. 

Draco quickly let go of Hermione’s hand at Ron’s _ahem_ and took the drink. “Er, thanks for inviting me,” he said, taking a sip. 

“Oh Draco, you have such a glowing aura today,” Luna sang out. “The Nargles think you’re very nice-looking.” 

Draco choked. “Thanks,” he said, wiping his mouth. 

Pansy hid a smirk behind her napkin. “So how’s the team doing, Harry? Prepared to lose to the coolest snakes in town?” 

Harry grinned. “I think you mean ready to _beat_ the coolest snakes in town. We’re ready to pound you into the ground.”

“The lamest snakes,” muttered Ron. 

With a glance at Draco, Hermione snatched Ron’s hand. “Let’s have a little chat, Ronald,” she said, dragging him away. 

“I’ve got a lovely green ribbon for you, Pansy,” said Luna, pulling a package out of her pocket. “I think you and your girlfriend would look gorgeous in these. They’re matching, you see.”

It was Pansy’s turn to choke on her drink. “Luciline’s not my—I mean we’re—she’s—” 

“Whatever you say, Pans.” Draco caught a wink from Harry. “Me and Blaise _have_ been hearing non-stop about how perfect she is.” 

“Because she is!” sputtered Pansy. “That doesn’t mean we’re a _thing!_ ” 

“Sure…” Draco trailed off, looking around the room. A disgruntled Ron Weasley was making his way back to them, followed by a smiling Hermione. 

“Draco,” said Ron stiffly when he had arrived. “I am sorry for how I’ve treated you. It’s not fair to blame you for trying to make your father happy. I know that he asks difficult things of you sometimes, and that’s not your fault.” 

Draco set down his drink. “Thank you, Weas—er, Ron.” 

After an awkward moment, Ron clapped him on the back. “Well then. We have some dancing to do, yes?” Taking Luna and Hermione’s hands, he led them into the sea of happy party-goers.

Pansy drifted off to find Luciline, taking an extra Firewhiskey with her. 

Harry smiled at Draco. “Would you like to dance?” At Draco’s stricken look, he quickly backtracked. “I mean, not that you have to—you could, that is, since everyone else—er, you don’t have to dance with _me_ specifically—” 

“Sure,” interrupted the Slytherin. “Let’s dance.” 

Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was dreaming.

Whatever the reason, Draco Malfoy shoved aside his turmoil and spent the night dancing with Harry Potter and his green, green eyes.


	7. in which draco is warned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the party, inter-House relations seem less strained. But are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Dead Poets Society and wrote this in a haze of coffee and sadness. But there's some fun fluff at the start, because I think that Harry would actually be as bad as James if he didn't have so many issues like in canon. More Draco and Ron interaction, and Hermione loosens up a bit from her canon rigidness. No tw's I can think of, but let me know if I'm wrong.  
> (Narcissa reads an encyclopaedia passage, which is actually this website—https://sciencing.com/peacock-food-4671901.html)

“Psst!” 

Draco woke up at the whisper. He was in the Gryffindor common room on one of the maroon sofas. Someone had draped a thick golden sherpa blanket over him in the middle of the night. 

“Psst! Draco!” 

The boy rubbed his eyes blearily and looked around. At some point, everyone had gotten tired and begun to either trek back to their own rooms or crash on the lounges and sofas. Draco held in a smile at the sight of Ron Weasley fast asleep on the floor, wrapped in a curtain. 

“Over here!” 

Finally putting a face to the voice, Draco was surprised to see Harry crouched over a sleeping Hermione. His eyes sparkled with mischief, which slightly unnerved Draco. He had never before been privy to the side of Harry Potter that wasn’t defensive, or quite frankly, too blind to find his own backside in a Quidditch match. 

In Harry’s hand was his lightly glowing wand, which waved slowly back and forth, braiding Hermione’s hair with the hair of a Gryffindor named Katie Bell. The girls’ hair properly entangled, Harry reached down and tapped Hermione’s face, then bolted back to the sofa where he had slept. Draco watched in fascination as The Chosen One hid his smile and pretended to sleep again. 

“Ah!” Hermione’s hand flew to her new hairstyle as she attempted to pull her head away from Katie, who was still half-asleep. Hands flitting over her hair, sussing out the situation, Hermione’s eyes darted around the room.

Draco realised she was searching for the perpetrator and quickly tried to shift back down, but Hermione caught his eye and he knew he’d been targeted. 

“You didn’t,” Hermione said, her eyes flashing in mirth. “Did you?” 

Draco snuck a look at Harry, who burst out laughing as soon as he made eye contact. Hermione whipped her head around, which turned Katie’s head as well. 

“Oi, what?” Katie sat up, knocking her forehead into Hermione’s. 

Draco snorted before he could stop himself. The room was silent, then the girls started laughing. Harry brought out his wand, failing to compose himself. Hermione let him untie their hair, rubbing her scalp after they were free. Katie only slapped Harry jokingly on the shoulder and crashed back down to the sofa, burying her head in a cushion. 

“I’m going back to sleep,” she said, muffled. “If any of you bozos wake me up before noon, I’ll sue you.” 

“The match is today, Kates,” Harry said, cheeks red with laughter. “Sue me for a million Galleons, you’ve only two more hours to sleep.” 

Draco glanced at the clock. The time was seven o’clock in the morning, a balmy Saturday breeze blowing gently through the window. Hermione tore his attention away from the clock by smacking Harry with a sofa cushion. 

“You are _not_ getting away with this, Harry,” she said. “You just wait.” 

Harry winked at Draco, then grabbed the sofa cushion. Hermione shrieked and jumped up, grabbing another cushion from under Seamus, who woke with an indignant yawp. Harry raised his cushion, about to pummel Hermione, then raised an eyebrow and turned to the sleeping Weasley on the floor. 

“At the same time,” Hermione said, grinning. 

Ron Weasley woke up to the impact of two pillows sending a flurry of feathers into the air. The feathers drifted down to reveal his best friends, faces glowing with mischief. 

“You could have killed me, you numbskulls!” Ron cried, forcing the smile from his face. 

The numbskulls in question stopped smiling. 

“Uh, with a pillow?” Harry scratched his head awkwardly. 

Ron glared at them a moment more, then broke out into a wide grin. He hooked Hermione’s ankle, sending her crashing to the floor, where he attacked her with a handful of feathers. Draco silently watched the ruckus as other people began to stir, murmurs turning into laughter as Hermione shoved a handful of feathers down the front of Ron’s sweater. 

“Hey, good morning,” said a voice behind him, making him jump. 

He turned around to meet Harry’s green eyes. “Good morning.” 

“Ready for the game, then?”

“Yes.” Draco searched Harry’s gaze, but found nothing. “Are you?” 

“Definitely.” 

The boys were interrupted by a loud clanging, which was Seamus tipping over a metal tray full of snacks. Hermione swept it all up with a flick of her wand, shooting a glare towards the perpetrator. 

“Everyone, stop messing about! You’re only giving more work, let’s clean this place up!” Hermione began putting the sofa cushions back, to which most of the kids responded by folding up their various sleeping arrangements and scooping feathers into the bin. 

Harry and Draco pitched in, re-hanging the curtain that Ron had so graciously left in a heap on the floor and putting away all the decorations. Once the job was done, the students all rushed to their own dorms to prepare for the day. Draco lingered outside the Gryffindor common room, feeling as though he ought to say something to the Trio, but not knowing what. Ron poked his head out the door, emptying a tumbler of ginger ale into the snow. Draco started to leave, but caught Ron’s attention. 

“Still here, Malfoy?” Instead of telling him to go, Ron leaned against the wall. “Why?” 

Draco fidgeted. “I guess I…wanted to say thanks?” 

“Oh, let me get Harry then, you can tell him you liked the party.” Ron turned to go inside, but Draco reached out and brushed his arm. 

“I meant, thank _you_. Also to Harry and Hermione, of course, but to you as well.” 

Ron stared at him, the lightest touch of a blush on his face. “Er, yeah, I mean, yeah. What—what for, again?” 

Draco cringed. The awkward air was palpable. “I haven’t been…Gryffindor hasn’t been nice to my House in centuries, so it was a good thing you did here. I mean, throwing an inter-House party and all. The Slytherins needed some…They needed— _I_ needed—to know that Houses aren’t enemies, just school rivals.” 

Ron nodded. “Yeah, we needed to know it too. And it’s not like the teachers were going to do anything about it. Get what’s good done yourself, eh?” 

Draco nodded too. “Uh—yes.” He pivoted, intending to go back to Slytherin, but Ron hissed behind him. “What?”

Ron looked around frantically. “Beware of Jimmy Peakes,” he whispered. “He’s a Beater on our team. Half-blood, and his father used to work for the Ministry. Your father fired him last week. They’re on their last Knuts and Peakes is out to get you. Don’t—” 

Hermione called for Ron from inside. 

“He’s left-handed!” With that, Ron disappeared into Gryffindor, leaving Draco standing there in the snow. 

On the long trek back to the Slytherin dormitories, Draco tried to picture Jimmy Peakes in his mind’s eye. He vaguely remembered a brunet boy with a sharp jawline who he’d seen flying during practices. As he thought hard, another memory welled up—one from a few years prior. 

It was summertime, and two white peacocks were roosting in the tree outside the window. Draco was watching them with interest as they fluffed their feathers, spreading them wide before shifting around to tuck their heads in. Narcissa stood beside him, reading aloud from an encyclopaedia of birds. 

“‘Peacocks have high protein dietary requirements so they do tend to eat insects and animals as well as vegetation. They hunt and eat small insects, small reptiles and any other small creatures—’” 

“No one cares, Narcissa,” said Lucius. He sidled up behind his family, dressed impeccably in all black. “Do I look dapper?” 

Narcissa carefully closed the book, delicately placing it on the table before her. “You look very handsome,” she said, smoothing Lucius’s lapels. “Just as you always do.” 

Draco watched his mother’s eyes close off, becoming almost icy. In contrast, his father’s were brighter than usual. 

“Well, I’m off to interview a very interesting fellow,” said his father. “He’s a little young, a little stupid, but full of determination. He’s misplaced his blood papers somehow, but I think I’ll let it slide. Mr. Peakes is a hard worker.” 

“Have a very good time, dear,” Narcissa said. “Let us know what he’s like when you return.” 

Lucius turned to leave, then pointed his cane at Draco. “He’s got a son, you know. Keep a lookout for a ‘Jimmy Peakes’ when you get to school. Maybe you’ll actually make a friend.” 

“Yes, father, I will.” Ever the dutiful son, Draco tried to smile. 

The memory dissipated. Returning to the present, the young Malfoy shuddered. Hopefully, Ron was exaggerating, or Peakes was a bad aim. Recalling the urgency with which the Weasley boy had warned him, it seemed unlikely that luck was on his side. 

As Draco made his way up the stairs to his room, he had a nasty feeling he’d be in the hospital wing by the end of the day.


	8. in which the christmas match is played

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Match time! Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, so sorry for the hiatus; not only did I have a million school exams, family tension, work, etc., but I was also sad. We back now, babyyy. Ok so slight TW for one profane word (from Ron), family talk again, symptoms of concussion (a bit of Draco whump because ofc, i'm evil). More of this chum chum friendship w Harry.. :)
> 
> Enter Lee Jordan and a lot of em dashes!
> 
> (Also, I wrote in the Quidditch teams for you so you know who's who. I used a bunch of players from canon and a few OC's (no one who wasn't already mentioned in prev. chapters) and so have fun with that. I was a little afraid to write this because I found it difficult to keep track of so many characters, but I hope you enjoy it!)

* * *

For reference; this is a mix of OC’s and canon Quidditch players, from different years, but in this AU, these are the teams (ik it’s sorta confusing I’m sorry abt that):

** Gryffindor Team: ** **Slytherin Team:**

Harry Potter—Seeker Draco Malfoy—Seeker

Ron Weasley—Keeper Miles Bletchley—Keeper

Katie Bell—Chaser Octans Moose (OC)—Chaser

Angelina Johnson—Chaser Marcus Flint—Chaser

Alicia Spinnet—Chaser Luciline (Pansy’s gf, OC)—Chaser

Jimmy Peakes—Beater Lilah Rigel (OC)—Beater

Euan Coote—Beater Harper—Beater

* * *

“Let the game begin!”

The shrill whistle jump-started each player into the air. Draco zoomed high above the pitch, watching for flashes of gold. The snow tickled his cheeks, making him wish that the Quidditch kit was a bit heavier in fabric choice. 

“Watch it!” Harper darted past him, swinging his club wide. “I’ve got your back, just focus on the Snitch!” 

Spotting Harry pulling his broom into a nosedive, Draco went after him. The boys were neck-and-neck, darting through the other players, squinting against the whipping snow—

 _Wham!_ Harry knocked into Draco, causing the two to spin out into Alicia Spinnet, who angrily shoved them away. Draco grabbed his broom before he could fall, simultaneously pushing Harry upright. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Draco shouted at the Gryffindor. 

“I was dodging a Bludger, you prick!” 

“TEN POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR! OCTANS MOOSE TAKES THE QUAFFLE AND FUMBLES, DROPS IT TO KATIE BELL!” Lee Jordan narrated below them. 

Dashing past the line of Slytherins was the faintest hint of gold, fluttering quickly through the snow to hover just over the ground. Draco spotted it and dove, pulling his broom up to fly at breakneck speed five centimetres from the icy pitch. The golden gleam flashed out of sight, hidden behind the snow and a Gryffindor Beater, who gave Draco a dirty look. Halting in midair, Draco did a double-take. The brunet boy in front of him had the sharp look of Jimmy Peakes. 

Before he could do or say anything, Harry’s voice came from behind him. “You alright there?”

Draco spun around. “What—yeah, I’m fine—” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Behind you!” Snatching a handful of Draco’s uniform, he yanked them both down. 

The tell-tale _thud_ of a Bludger hitting the stands told Draco everything he needed to know. Freeing himself from Harry’s grasp, he pointed his broom upward and rose above the players, seeing Peakes glower at him from below. Harry zoomed up to meet him. 

“What’s going on with you?” 

“Peakes is trying to kill me,” Draco said wryly. “Stop talking to me. We’re supposed to compete for the Snitch.” 

“ _Peakes?_ But he’s the nicest—”

“Not to me, not when my father fired his father.” 

Harry fell silent, watching Octans wrestle the Quaffle through the hoop. Draco looked at Ron in front of another hoop, who was squinting up at the two Seekers suspiciously. A flash of gold in the corner of Draco’s eye distracted him. He took off, eliciting a shout of surprise from Harry. 

“LOOKS LIKE THE SEEKERS HAVE GOT EYES ON THE SNITCH ONCE MORE!” boomed Lee Jordan. “HOPEFULLY THEY CATCH IT, SO WE CAN ALL GO INSIDE AND NOT FREEZE SOLID IN THIS INFERNAL SNOW—AND THAT’S TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN, AS GRYFFINDOR KEEPER RON WEASLEY MISSES THE QUAFFLE!” 

Draco put on a burst of speed, keeping his eyes on the frantically winging Snitch. As he stretched out a hand, about to grab it, a Bludger flew across his vision, brushing his nose. Reeling backwards, Draco caught Peakes glaring at him, face swelling red. The Bludger ricocheted off the stands and smashed into the handle of Draco’s broom, causing him to tilt violently sideways. Wobbling in the air, Draco guided his broom as fast as he could to the opposite side of the pitch. For the first time, he scanned the crowd, who until then had kept a steady stream of noise going. As Draco’s broom drifted high against his will, they began to quiet. 

Lee Jordan, as loud as ever, blathered on. “IT APPEARS THAT A PLAYER’S BROOM HAS BEEN DAMAGED, WHICH IS FINE. I’M SURE IT’S FINE—THE BEAUTIFUL ANGELINA JOHNSON TAKES HOLD OF THE QUAFFLE—TWENTY POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR!” 

The audience cheered and waved, returning the noise to full volume as some of the Gryffindors spun in the air, putting on a victory show while the Slytherins jeered and laughed. 

While Harper gleefully shouted obscenities at Gryffindors below, Draco’s broom was losing speed, thrown off balance by the loss of fourteen centimetres’ worth of wood. Draco tried re-centering himself, telling his brain that logically, it would be fine if he just got his balance back. As he tilted dangerously, Jimmy Peakes flew up beside him. He had a tight grip on his club and a murderous glint in his eye. 

“What are you doing,” Draco gasped, trying to keep his broom afloat. 

“I’m keeping the lights on,” snarled Peakes. “Your father will pay mine if he fears for your safety.” 

At that, Draco let out a laugh. “As if,” he said. “Not to burst your bubble, but I’m fairly certain he won’t care.”

Peakes twirled the club. “Shall we find out?”

Draco’s broom sank lower. “You’ll be expelled,” he warned. “It really isn’t a good idea—”

“To do what?” Harry Potter’s voice made both of them turn. 

“Not your business, mate,” said Peakes, nonchalantly running a finger over his club. 

“I think it is,” Harry said warily. “While you two are up here having your little stand-off, your teams need you to play.” 

“OI!” Ron shouted up at the three. “GET DOWN HERE AND ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING!” 

Peakes left the Seekers with a scowl, darting down to prepare for Bludgers again. Harry looked at Draco, who struggled to stay upright on his wobbly broom. 

“Was he threatening you?” 

“Yeah—it’s fine, it doesn’t matter—oh, Merlin’s sake—” Draco wrenched the tail of his broom around, keeping a steady float downwards. 

“Well of course it matters—”

“He’s just trying to help his family—”

“You’ll get hurt!” 

“Who _cares_!” Draco whirled on Harry. “I know full well my father _will_ pay, if only to preserve our _precious Malfoy reputation_! Not because he ‘fears for my safety,’ but because no one wants a son who can’t even stand off in a fight.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he opened his mouth—

“Don’t look at me like that,” groused Draco. “It doesn’t even matter.” 

“OI, YOU LAZY BASTARDS!” Ron shouted furiously at them. “SEEK, FOR MERLIN’S SAKE, SEEK!” 

Pointedly avoiding Harry’s pity-filled gaze, Draco urged his broom to fly faster, zooming off to look for the Snitch. 

Harper brushed past Draco, swerving around Katie Bell and sending a Bludger towards Ron, who ducked. Peakes smashed the Bludger back towards Harper, who flipped smartly and sent it into Katie’s hand, making her drop the Quaffle. Lilah Rigel angrily hit the other Bludger towards Peakes, who in turn batted it towards Marcus Flint. Marcus took the blow and spun out of the impact, snatching the Quaffle from the air and passing it to Octans, who flung it through one of the hoops. 

“TWENTY TO SLYTHERIN!” hollered Lee Jordan. “AND THE APHRODITE-ESQUE ANGELINA TAKES THE QUAFFLE! SHE SHOOTS—BLETCHLEY BLOCKS THE HOOP—BUT ALICIA SPINNET’S COME AROUND THE BACK—SHE SCORES! TEN TO GRYFFINDOR!” 

Down in the stands, a sea of maroon gloves and scarves waved happily in the air, accompanied by a blare of horns as Luna and Hermione blasted party favours. Draco smiled as Pansy took one and ripped it to shreds. 

“There!” Harry whispered and pointed to the Snitch, which was hovering underneath Ron. 

Draco pointed his broom downward, but a force slammed into his side and sent him spinning into the air. Peakes’ dark eyes found Draco’s, filled with misguided hatred. Launching himself at Draco with his club raised, Peakes took no heed of the players around them—a mistake on his part. Lilah barreled into Peakes before he could bring the club down, knocking him nearly off his broom. Righting himself, he glared daggers at Lilah. 

“Stay out of this!” 

“I think not!” she retorted, catching the attention of Harper. 

“What’s going on?”

Lilah pointed at Peakes. “He’s attacking Draco!”

Harper looked at Draco, who sat on his wobbly broom trying to catch his breath. Harry rose to Harper's side, looking angry. Peakes twirled his club. 

“WHAT’S GOING ON,” yelled Lee Jordan. 

Madam Hooch, who had been dozing on the sidelines, blew her whistle. Dutifully, all the players floated down to land on the grass. The crowd murmured in the stands, banners drooping slightly. 

“No deliberate attacks on players,” Madam Hooch said. “For that, a penalty to Slytherin.” 

Bletchley and Marcus looked at Luciline, who had been skirting the edges of the game, and back to Madam Hooch. 

“Yes, Luciline, why don’t you take it?” 

Luciline and Ron lifted off to circle each other, the Quaffle held tight in Luciline’s grasp. Faking a right, Luciline ducked under Ron and passed a clean shot through the centre hoop. The rest of the players flew to meet them after a nod and a whistle from Madam Hooch, setting the game back in motion. The crowd cheered, banners and such upright again. 

Draco had to fight his broom from going sideways as Harry immediately rose above the commotion. With a hiss, Peakes dashed away to smack a Bludger towards Octans. Diving in front of him, Marcus collided with Euan Coote, who squawked indignantly at the loss of his club. As Coote chased his club, Angelina stole the Quaffle from Luciline, tossing over Alicia’s head to Katie. Katie dove past Marcus’ flailing limbs, catapulting the Quaffle past Bletchley. 

“TEN TO GRYFFINDOR!” Lee Jordan shouted. “THE EFFERVESCENT ANGELINA GRABS THE QUAFFLE AGAIN, DODGING OCTANS MOOSE WITH THE GRACE OF A SWAN—AND HE’S GOT THE BALL! TEN TO SLYTHERIN!”

Draco spotted a flash of gold zip past Lilah, causing her hair to swoosh dramatically. She looked around in surprise, then lunged away to keep a Bludger from Luciline. Urging his broom, Draco bolted after the Snitch. It wasn’t long before the sound of Harry’s broom bristles followed him. The boys were neck-and-neck again, reaching for the ball, fingers brushing the surface—

 _Wham!_ Something bundled Draco off his broom, making his stomach swoop nauseatingly. He fell for a heart-stopping moment, slamming into the ground on his back. The impact jolted through his ribcage, forcing his lungs to constrict. Through his suddenly blurry vision, he saw the outline of a satisfied Peakes, who quickly retreated into the horde of players. 

“THE SLYTHERIN SEEKER IS DOWN, ALLOWING GRYFFINDOR TO—YES, HARRY POTTER’S GOT THE SNITCH! 150 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR, WINNING THE GAME!” 

The crowd exploded into a cacophony of cheers and boos, a flurry of scarves and banners jabbing into the air. The players celebrated, shaking hands and giving friendly back pats to each other. The whistle blew, indicating the Gryffindor victory. 

Draco rolled over, pressing his forehead to the grass. Madam Hooch hurried up the sideline to kneel beside him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Sit up, dear?” she asked, waving a hand to Madam Pomfrey in the stands. 

Draco pushed himself upright, fighting dizziness. Harry touched down beside them. 

“Can I help?” 

Draco tried to say he was fine, but wheezed instead. The back of his skull throbbed. Hopped up on adrenaline, the two Quidditch teams began to land, surrounding him. 

“Is he alright?” 

Draco scoffed internally at the fake concern in Peakes’ voice. Lilah whirled to the Gryffindor Beater and started yelling, the words blurring together in Draco’s mind. Soft hands lifted him to his feet, making him squeeze his eyes shut against the starbursts flooding his head.

“You’ll be fine after a rest,” said Madam Pomfrey, guiding him away—

“Wait!” Professor McGonagall stood up from the stands, hurrying down onto the pitch to whisper into Madam Pomfrey’s ear. 

Draco swayed on his feet while the Quidditch teams chattered amongst themselves, a few players shooting concerned glances. Most of them were excitedly talking about either their victory or loss, as the crowd started to merge onto the pitch and socialise. 

Madam Pomfrey nodded to Professor McGonagall and took Draco’s arm, leading him off the grass. 

“Where…what?” Draco managed to look at her. 

“No time,” she said, hurrying him along. “Draco, your mother is here.” 

A fresh wave of dizziness swept over Draco. He stumbled, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was Harry’s green eyes watching him from the pitch.


End file.
